A foot bath, orange cheese balls, and The Masters

Several weeks ago, a friend suggested we spend time together getting a foot detox at a local spa. I am all about detoxing, so sure.

As my feet soaked, I studied the water and a chart explaining what the different colors and floating substances indicated. And I was surprised.

It is no secret we are exposed to a lot of toxins daily. What we put on our skin and in our mouths, the products we use to clean our homes and our clothes, the abundance of indoor recycled air we breathe – all tainted by poisons, many of which we cannot identify.

I know that. You do too.

But the reality has greater impact when you see it floating in water at your feet…

Rather startling, right? 

On the drive home, we chatted about the process and results. We talked about being more mindful of the things to which we expose ourselves. Then, we moved on. I mean, how much can you talk about hidden toxins?

Little did I know there was more to the topic.

The Masters is my favorite golf tournament of the year. I watch golf often, but The Masters is special. This year, the tournament went down to the final hole. I was on my feet most of the afternoon cheering on two of my favorites as they tried to catch the leader.

I didn’t like the leader. I was unhappy when he won. My guys fought hard, but the winner met every challenge.

I was grumpy when he won. GRUMPY. I had my reasons, too. Those reasons were affirmed by several golf writers after the tournament. I read every article with that theme and said YEAH!

Thursday of that week I was thinking about golf, in general, and suddenly I sensed God, who is the Source of everything good in me, asking why I was still irritated over someone winning a golf tournament when it had zero effect on my life.

“I’m not irritated.”

“You are.”

“I wanted one of the other two to win.”

“Maybe. But, mostly, you didn’t want that guy to win. Why?”

“Dunno”

“Uh huh. How does this resonate with you? You think that mistakes in his past should be held him now? That family problems should be publicly aired? That what you have decided about his appearance and demeanor, when you have never seen him in person and certainly do not know him, makes him unworthy of being a Masters’ winner?”

And for the second time in a week, I was shocked at the toxins pouring out of me.

That isn’t me. At least I believe it isn’t.  Nice Christian woman. Reads her Bible every day. Wants to be like Jesus.

But there it was, as convicting as the foot bath water. And far uglier.

Two weeks later, I cannot point to a certain feeling or occurrence that set me on a rant that day. But that is often the case, isn’t it?

Sometimes I eat orange cheese balls, knowing full well there is nothing but toxins in them.

Sometimes I have orange cheese ball thoughts – listening to negative words about me from people, abiding negative words about others, ruminating on things over which I have no control, being aggravated by social media posts or politics. Nothing but toxins.

But, it is so easy. You know it is.

I don’t want to prepare a salad. Orange cheese balls!

I know it is too late to eat but I am watching television and I’m hungry. Orange cheese balls!

I drove for several miles behind a left-lane driver going the speed limit and a right-lane driver going slower. And three hours later, I still don’t feel like letting it go. Orange cheese balls!

I am golfing with a group of people who are gossiping about numerous people, but I don’t want them to think I am Miss Righteous. I don’t join in, but I don’t disagree. Orange cheese balls!

I have a vision for my life, my work, my time. I think about it and dream about it many times each day. But when others want to tell me it is foolish, or when others want to be critical of my choices, I let them talk. And it makes a mark.

Orange cheese balls.

Toxins pouring into my body and my mind every day. I am aware of them. But I think I make them bounce off, avoid the damage. Or I am simply not interested, in that moment, in actively choosing differently.

I tell myself a few orange cheese balls won’t hurt, forgetting that they accumulate, forgetting that sometimes I do not recognize them.

Then they come spilling out from my feet, from my mouth, in my actions.                      

Sometimes it simply makes me aware.                                                                                        Sometimes it makes a mess that isn’t resolved by emptying a tub of water.

How about you? Am I alone in this?

Each time I learn a little bit more. A step forward…and miles to go.

And I am always thankful for the folks who remain faithful along the path.

We will talk again soon…

Beth Painter is, among many other things, a writer, photographer, and motivational speaker. You can follow her on Facebook on the “Think Big focus small” page. Beth is available to speak to your group about how to make your dreams and desires come to life!

Easter, fear, and an egg-shaped mass...

It is Monday at 9:15PM and today has been busy. I should be heading to bed. Instead I am thinking about Easter, and fear, and an egg-shaped mass.

Crazy, right? And yet, connected.

For Christians, Easter is the culmination of Lent. A time when we reflect on Jesus, His love, His sacrifice, and His ultimate gift.

But Easter is over, isn't it? The eggs have been found, new clothes worn to church, ham eaten. Another week has started. S.O.S.

Same old job. Same old debts. Same old aches and pains and illnesses. Same old worries and fears.

Our world has been programmed with fear. It is everywhere. We are reminded daily and from many sides that there is much to fear.  It is hard to see a way out.

We are conditioned from childhood to believe that fear will keep us safe. Fear will stop us from doing something that might hurt us or get us in trouble.

That is a lie. Fear only makes us afraid.

Fear calls to mind every negative possibility. Repeats each of them ad nauseum. Shouts each of them loudly to drown out hope. Tells us that if we don’t know exactly what will happen in a given situation, we should be afraid.

And while we have the ability to choose hope, we often choose fear instead.

An excellent Easter sermon from Pastor Chance reminded me that the disciples also chose fear when the man with whom they had lived for three years, the man who had healed people and performed miracles, the man who defied the established religious leaders, was gone. Dead. Buried in a tomb.

It is easy for us to chide the disciples for being afraid because we know how the story changes.

Perhaps, in their current space, the disciples are chiding us as well because, while we know how the story changes, while we know how the grief of Friday changes to the glory of Sunday, we go back to life on Monday like it is a nice story that will come in handy as the time to leave this earth approaches.

Easter is not about dying. It is about living, overcoming, not being bound by anything negative.

Easter is about looking fear in the face and saying, “I will not believe you.”

Easter is about acknowledging that fear is at work, then moving past it, pushing through it.

Easter is about understanding that fear knows our weaknesses, so we also need to know them and be vulnerable enough to acknowledge them so others can stand with us.

Two weeks ago, I had a mass the size of an egg removed from my abdomen. I was not afraid. Not during pre-op testing. Not on surgery day. Not while waiting for the pathology. I never doubted it would be anything but a benign anomaly.

Please do not think I am bragging.

I am not afraid of a misplaced egg in my belly. I am not afraid of cancer or debt or loneliness or death. I am not afraid of heights or snakes or spiders.

But I have nursed a debilitating fear for a long time. Thankfully, some beloved people know what it is, and know how to help me find wings.

My fear has been of writing words that do not matter.

My fear has been of sharing photographs or videos that do not move people.

So I share infrequently or not at all.

It doesn’t matter what lie I believed to conjure that fear, and there were lies.

One of the beautiful women in my Wellspring accountability group suggested I think of this mass as the tangible representation of that fear – and that now it is gone with no long-term effects.  

I LOVE that analogy!

I do not need to be prodded or cajoled, but encouragement is helpful, and this analogy resonates with me.

Yet there have been no words, no pictures, no videos.

And now I am, once again, on the other side of Easter. On the side where fear should have no power to make decisions. Where fear should not govern my actions, at least not if I want my relationship with Jesus to carry weight.

Mary Magdalene and her friend (also Mary) saw the tomb open when they went to anoint Jesus’ body with oil. The guy in the white garment (AKA an angel) said, “HAVE NO FEAR. The one you are looking for, the one who was beaten and killed and put here…he isn’t here anymore. He is risen. He has conquered death. And if you go to the place he told you about, he will be there to show you a new way to live and to share life with him.”

Easter isn’t about ham or jelly beans or new dresses.

Easter isn’t about great hymns and lilies.

Easter isn’t even just about what Jesus did.

Easter is about what I can do because of what Jesus did.

Easter is about embracing the ability to tell fear it can go back to the hell from whence it came.

Easter is about abundant life and the perfect love that casts out fear.

So, here are some words. To be followed by more words and images.

We will talk again soon…

Beth Painter is, among many other things, a writer, photographer, and motivational speaker. You can follow her on Facebook on the “Think Big focus small” page. Beth is available to speak to your group about how to make your dreams and desires come to life!